


And Who Are You, Exactly?

by lexathecandlevlogger



Category: Supergirl
Genre: F/F, Gay, Sanvers - Freeform, SuperCorp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 05:52:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexathecandlevlogger/pseuds/lexathecandlevlogger
Summary: Kara and Alex Danvers moved to the city from the country in the 1800s. They now live in tenements, are poor, and believe all rich people are spoiled bitches, but then Kara meets a striking young woman who changes her mind. P.S. Some Sanvers in there, too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a world studies summative exam and the original prompt was "create 8 diary entries from someone who lived in the industrial revolution", but I convinced my teacher to let me write a short story instead. I tried to make it as gay as possible!

October 5, 1891  
Monday

The air was musty and unclean, as if the discouragement of the people had somehow wafted off of them; laced with their failures, losses, and insalubrity. While the density did suffocate, opening a window allowed the pollution outside to enter, and that was arguably worse.

Kara didn't need to open her eyes to know it was dawn. The usual coughs from tenants and wails from infants filled her ears, not people scrambling to get to work. Clicks of horses and scuffs of carriage wheels came from outside. The city was still darkened but for a few street lamps, and the sky was already lightly illuminated an eerie blue-gray.

Hopefully she was the only one awake and could pretend the reality of her new life didn't exist for just a little longer. Warm fingertips nudge her bare forearm. Of course, she couldn't pretend for long. Of course, it was Alex.

“Kara,” she whispered. 

Kara rolled her eyes and turned over. 

“Kara,” a bit louder. 

Her sister wouldn't stop until Kara responded, as was her wont every morning.

Fingernails deepened into her forearm tightly. 

“What?” Kara loudly whispered, careful not to wake anyone, but trying to be stern. 

“We have to go.” 

“Not for another hour, Alex,” she replied. 

“Today we get up now.” Her sister got up and began to straighten out the bed. 

“Why?” Kara sat up, rubbing the exhaustion out from under her eyes. 

“We both promised to take a couple of extra hours. From five to eight, not six to six. How do you not remember?” 

Kara’s nose scrunched in confusion. “Why on earth would I do that?” 

“Because we’re poor, bungler,” Alex scuffed. “I personally told Mrs. Grant, so we have to go.” 

Kara shoved the covers off. “Why did I get dragged into this?”

“You just did, now come on.” 

“Shh!” Someone hushed from the corner of the room. 

“Sorry, Maggie!” Alex whispered back. 

“How'd you remember that's where Maggie sleeps?” Kara questioned. 

Her sister was dumbstruck and stuttered. “Um, I, uh, I-I don't know.” Her lips pursed to one side.   
Kara’s eyebrows twisted in puzzlement. “I don't want to know.” 

Alex snorted. 

The two of them along with a couple other women from their tenement exited to the outside world. The streets remained mostly unoccupied because normally work shifts don't start until six or seven in the morning. Walking between the two buildings seemed like a blur, like a dream. It always did, given this was only their eighth day in the city. 

Kara was told all her life that moving to the city would bring “great fortune”, but so far that felt like an overstatement. 

No one the Danvers sisters knew ever spoke of enjoying their work, however they did get paid. Not much but something to live off, that is if “living” meant being stuffed into rooms with sometimes a dozen people, and depending on the largesse of the wealthy for almost everything. Basic needs that someone should be able to do on their own like have some place to live, collect food and money, but as someone who is not wealthy, they must strive off the rich. It's embarrassing.  
As Kara began to get used to her new normal, the dreary building that could easily be compared to Hell, she began to call home. Not many would ever call a place that pushed them nearly over the edge “home" but Kara Danvers did. She didn't like it, of course; although for some reason the rows of worn down tables piled with dysfunctional sewing machines and mountains of white shirtwaists had begun to come as a comfort. In the first couple hours of having a job, she didn't think she'd ever make it until her sister convinced her, several times, they were doing this for a purpose; for their parents back in the country who had little to nothing. It's cliche and a little boring but family was the most important thing to Kara. Simply the idea of having a group working toward the same goal that she could single-handedly accomplish helped her. Made herself feel proud of her near accomplishments for once. 

Not that it made her twelve hour (today fifteen hour) work day any easier. She still sleepwalked through her life’s endeavor carelessly, and today that came at a price. 

Her fingers slipped while holding the white cloth in between them and the sewing needle collided with her skin. The needle pierced directly through her distal phalanx.  
The needle was through Kara’s flesh, making both halves on either side of Kara’s finger equal. Kara’s hand began to shake, but she didn't feel pain. More of a pressure that she couldn't comprehend the exact source of; it was all over her finger. Blood dripped from the top, although not much. Kara only stared at it until a sharp pain spread from the tip of her finger to her palm. She bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep from whimpering and attracting attention, but the woman next to her noticed. 

The woman gasped. “Are you okay? You need help.” 

Kara shook her head. She feared she'd get yelled at for her own gracelessness. No way any of these hog grubbers were capable of feeling sympathy. 

“What’s going on over here?” A tall man peered over their heads. 

Kara was speechless. Her heart raced and hands shook.

“A needle went through her finger.” The woman next to her picked up Kara’s hand to show the supervisor, which hurt more than the actual needle. 

The man narrowed his eyebrows. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“She cannot work like this!” The woman said. Kara cringed. Anything this woman has to say could be crucial to her keeping her job. 

The brooding man gripped Kara’s forearm and pulled to make her stand up. Kara gasped at the sudden forceful movement. He lifted her hand to be eye level with his eyes. He seemed to be examining it as if she were lying despite the obvious evidence. Two of his fingers squeezed one end of the needle, she knew he was going to pull it out himself. Anxiety flooded every inch of her body and her hand shook more than ever. All she wanted to do was yank her hand back, but that could metaphorically end her life. Her eyes tightened and her other hand clenched in a fist so tight her fingernails left crescents in her palms. 

“Stop!” was yelled from across the room. Everyone else working tried to ignore the mayhem before them, but this time they all looked up for a second. 

 

“What are you doing? What's going on?” The woman walked towards Kara and the supervisor. The clicks of her heels drawing closer. Kara’s eyes widened at the sight of her. She wore a long dark blue dress with an overlapping washed out blue on top and white in the front. 

The man held Kara’s hand up to show the woman. 

“Leave,” she told him. He followed orders with, “yes, Ms. Luthor,” and resumed looming over and around the factory floor, finding every little reason to yell at the workers. 

“Come with me,” she said to Kara. Kara followed behind the woman. 

They ended up in a room in the corner of the floor. A perfect square shape with a desk and a table on the edges. It was similarly bland as the rest of the factory was, gray battered walls, worn down oak floors, but a few paintings hung from the walls. 

“Sit down,” she told Kara. Kara sat on a stool beside the desk. 

“What happened?” The woman asked as she sat on a chair obviously provided by the hierarchy. 

Kara explained how she clumsily imbedded a needle into her finger, trying not to seem angry about it or blaming someone or something else, yet trying to not make her seem like a complete lummox. 

The woman peered into Kara’s eyes. Kara’s eyebrow raised slightly and she leaned back in defense. The woman’s eyes were bright green. The kind only possible in a painting. Her hair jet black which was in elaborate braids twisted in a low bun. Again, anxiety filled her body with why this woman of obvious authority brought her back to her office. Why she wasn't just fired on the scene. 

“I'm sorry, ma’am. I didn't intend for this to interrupt the work day or your day at all-” Kara began.

“Lena.” The woman interjected. 

“I'm sorry?” Kara asked.

“My name is Lena.” 

Kara’s breath hitched in her throat. Why did everything seem so important in this moment? What she did, what she said. Self consciousness overcrowded her mind. She wanted to crunch her shoulders and arch her back in embarrassment, but instead she straightened into a posture so beautiful it hurt. The roundness of her face, the tired look in her eyes, and her breathing all became very noticeable to her. “I-I’m sorry.”

“It's alright. It was an accident.” 

Kara didn't speak again. She allowed Lena to examine her finger closely. Every ounce of Lena’s touch hurt, but one bit of it was somehow comforting. Human contact that wasn't from her sister, or some unwieldy man trying to make her life more difficult. Kara could not keep her eyes off the woman’s hands on her own. A million words came into her mind to describe them. Delicate, ivory, refined...

“When do you get off work today?”

“What?” Kara’s head jerked up.   
“When does your shift end?” Lena’s eyes met her’s. 

“Um, eight.”

“So late?”

“My arrogant sister decided for the both of us to take a couple extra hours.” 

“That's not very fair if she decided for you.” 

Kara laughed. “No, it’s not. That's what I told her.”

“Oh, your sister works in the building, too.”

“Yes, she does. On the fifth floor.” 

The most pain Kara ever felt jolted through her hand and up her arm. Lena had been distracting Kara enough to pull the needle out without Kara’s protest. Grunting, Kara pulled her hand into a fist.

“There.” Lena smiled and rubbed her hands together. 

Kara smiled timidly. “You tricked me.” 

“But it got the job done. Now let me clean it.” Lena reached out to hold Kara’s hand, but for the last time? Supervisors never consorted with labor. Of course this was the last time.

Kara had so many questions. Why did Lena give her first name? It is a universal rule that the poor address the wealthy by surname. After all, family names hold all the power. Why was Lena being so nice? To her? The wealthy are supposed to despise the less fortunate because of their “laziness”, or whatever assertion they've come up with in their own corrupted minds.

Why was her heart beating so abnormally quick?

 

Lena cleaned the wound and wrapped it in a piece of gauze. Kara thanked her generously and proceeded on with her day. She left the office, a feeling of prosperity helping her walk with confidence, yet also dreading the drudgery ahead. Not to mention, her finger was quite sore, with sharp pains stabbing now and then. Of course, the work wasn't the least bit difficult, but now it was much more tedious. At the end of their long shift Kara and Alex walked home together.

Due to the extra three hours, the walk home was especially fatiguing. Kara’s legs cramped with every step. Nothing could compare to the pain in her back, every movement causing a shoot of agony like she imagined a heart attack must feel. Even though Alex must have reciprocated the feeling, she did not bring it up. How typical.

The long shift left Kara exhausted, and she was distressed at the thought of becoming used to that feeling--the feeling of complete and utter emptiness. She didn’t want to feel this every day, much less be forced obey the commands of the wealthy.

Returned to their empty tenement, Alex laid down on the bed.

“Where is everyone?” Kara asked.

“Probably downstairs. I’m not sure.” Alex responded. “By the way, I’m done. I regret this. We can be poor right? Live on the streets?”

Kara at first feared Alex was serious, but then the sarcastic tone in her voice at the last question eased her worry.

“No, we cannot. Come on, it’s not too bad. You didn’t get a needle through your finger today, did you?”

Alex lurched forward. “Did you?”

Kara snickered. “Yep.” She showed Alex her gauzed hand. 

“Kara, are you alright? It could get infected!” She stood and took her sister’s hand.

“I’m fine. A supervisor cleaned it.” 

“A supervisor? Why?” Alex questioned. 

“Well not necessarily a supervisor. She introduced herself as Lena.” 

Alex’s eyes widened and she gripped Kara’s arm. “Lena Luthor? That’s Lillian Luthor’s daughter! The owner of the factory?”

She looked at Kara as if she had expected Kara to know all of this already.

“I thought Mrs. Grant was the owner.”

“No, she’s the main supervisor. She supervises the people who watch over us.”

“Huh, that’s basically what Lena was doing today. How do you know this?” Kara asked.

“Maggie’s been here a while. She’s told me stuff. So what happened? No worker has ever spoken to Ms. Luthor.” 

“Nothing really, she just pulled the needle out and cleaned my wound.” Kara shrugged. “Now I am humiliated for not knowing who she was! I feel utterly out of place having talked to her.”

Alex laughed at her sister’s embarrassment. How typical.

“Oh, Alex! She was elegant and formal and gorgeous, which didn't help my feeling out of place at all.”

Footsteps sounded from the corridor outside the room. Both girls turned to look and in walked Maggie.

“Hey!” Alex called out.

“Everyone is downstairs, why are you up here?”

“Well, Kara was just telling me about her new fixation on Ms. Lena Luthor.” Alex teased.

“There’s no--” Kara tried. 

“Did you talk to her?” Maggie asked as she sat next to Alex. “Isn't she great? Not like the rest of those robber barons.” 

“I-I,” Kara stuttered. 

“She sounds wonderful. I'd say go for it, but no way would she go for a gutter-snipe like you. Or me.” Alex used her arms as leverage to lift herself off the bed. “I'm going downstairs, you should go to bed now. Don't want to be too tired for your next meeting.” Alex smiled at her sister. Maggie followed Alex as they walked through the doorway quickly kissing on their way out, making sure no one else was in the hallway. 

 

As Kara slept fitfully on the poor excuse for bedding her landlord tried to pass off as a queen’s feather bed, she thought of her encounter with the woman everyone seemed to know but her. How would she have acted differently if she knew Lena’s importance? Why wasn’t she fired for disrupting the boss’s daughter’s day? Sniffles and snores put her to sleep like they did every night.

Throughout the next week, Kara and Lena began to talk more. Kara still felt uncomfortable, but talking to Lena at all made it worth it. Finding time to talk wasn't difficult because after all, Lena was the boss’s daughter. No supervisor objected when she took Kara away from her work.

Most shocking of all, Lena told of her mother and brother, how they were “evil” and ran the family corporation more ruthlessly than their competitors. Perhaps some spoiled people do care about the less fortunate. Lena said she would take it over once she figured out who would do her financial work, since women were not allowed to, and rename it L-Corp. During the conversation, Kara cautiously asked if Lena planned to marry a man, as then he would automatically fill in as an appropriate candidate.

Lena responded, “Marriage doesn't seem like the best plan for me; I doubt it’s at all likely.”

Kara had no idea what she meant and even now, still wonders what the woman’s reasoning was.

Kara explained to Lena how she and Alex moved to the city recently to help their parents who still lived in the country. Kara was quite knowledgeable of old artists like Richard Wilson and Benjamin West because her mother studied the arts. The older woman seemed puzzled by Kara’s explanation of her new living conditions, and how surviving as she was could be both completely boring and utterly painful. Lena was simply astounded. She knew what everything looked like, but not what it felt like. The feeling of being a prisoner was balderdash, but she had begun to see the reality of the people she had hired.

Lena looked deep in Kara’s eyes and said, “Life should be about more than just surviving.”


End file.
